The Thing I Feared Most
by Hilariter
Summary: Reflections on events from canon and slightly-OC characters.


_Honor_

The Reaping squares in District 2 were crowded. Younger Victors jostled for places near the front. Older Victors stood near the back, content to let the chance pass them by. Enobaria did neither, certain of her fate.

The mayor of the district strode out of the Hall of Justice. She nodded to him as he caught her eye. The Capitol guide for District 2, Jacobius Blake, followed him. She smiled slightly as he studiously avoided her gaze. A new lover and an old friend.

The Reaping was supposed to be a true one this year. For the last fifty years of Hunger Games, the Reaping of District 2 had been a sham. The Masters of the academy, of Blade, Strength, Mind, and Skill, chose the strongest young man and woman for that year. No matter who was Reaped, the best of them would have the honor of volunteering, of representing their district. The greatest honor to be had in District 2. This Quarter Quell was a different matter. Having no reference for who was the most worthy, the Masters had decided to let the Reaping play out as it was intended.

The Victors, of course, thought this was nonsense. Enobaria knew of several near-deaths as the younger Victors worked to intimidate or beat the others into submission. Infantile. Enobaria knew better. Older and wiser, she simply took a new lover and waited.

Jacobius went to the Reaping ball. He reached in and pulled out the folded slip of paper. He opened it carefully and read, "Patra Touran." District 2's second oldest Victor? Hardly. Enobaria didn't bother to listen to the male Tribute.

The guide measuredly asked for volunteers, and as one the voices rang out. Enobaria rolled her eyes. Amateurs.

Jacobius consulted with the mayor, then called out, "Our female tribute: Enobaria Renault!" She opened her mouth in a glittering golden smile. This singular honor and glory was hers and hers alone.

* * *

_Pride_

Ivory stood with the other mothers, a tight clique, exclusive, set apart and above. She was so proud, acknowledged as a higher rank. Both of her children stood in the yard today. Two Victors, standing tall among the ranks of the great. Ivory sought them out in the well-filled squares. Gloss was at the front, his hands on the rope, pulling it tight. Cashmere stood with unstudied grace near the back, calm and aloof. She had raised champions, unequalled even in District 1.

Now they would have another chance to be proved peerless. Her child, victorious not once, but twice over! Unprecedented and unparalleled, Cashmere and Gloss…

As this thought, she paused. Both of her precious children were back in the pool for the Reaping. There was a chance that both could be picked, or both could volunteer. Cashmere and Gloss, brother and sister Victors, could go back into the arena together. The playing field was not so great that they could never meet, nor that they could band together for long. The brother and sister Victors might be pitted in the final battle. Surely they could not take both of her children.

For the first time, Ivory felt something other than pride for Cashmere and Gloss, her beautiful, glorious children. She felt something almost forgotten, something almost like fear…

* * *

_Protect_

Finnick had tried to explain it to her, good boy that he was. They were going back into the arena. Mags felt again the slash of pain through her ankle, fractured in a fall off of one of the tall pillars of rock. She had lived with that ankle for a solid week. She vaguely remembered being called the bloodless Victor, the only Victor in history to only have killed one person during their Games. Finnick had told her that many people had since followed her example, hiding and surviving rather than fighting. One little girl had gotten to the top without ever hurting anyone, wasn't she clever? The dear boy was quite worried and agitated these days. He'd said something about games... Mags loved games, hide and seek was her favorite but only to hide. She was safe when she hid; the seekers were to be feared. Finnick and Annie took her out fishing sometimes, though they didn't need to fish to live on anymore. Annie delivered all her food now, straight off the fast silent trains.

But Mags clearly remembered the moonless nights with her father in the fast silent wooden kayak, fishing hooks made out of bone, of trash, of wire, on line carefully collected, saved, and re-twined by night, lures beautifully made by her mother near the fire of hair and grass and wool and glass. So much time, so much work, so much desperate fear. Of watchers, of noise. Those moonless nights kept her brothers and sisters alive. Finnick and Annie took her fishing now, her other family long gone, long drawn away. Her father taught her that. You protect your family and death by gunshot is not the only danger.

Finnick and Annie took her swimming too, she and Finnick taking turns to watch for the bad swimming things. The white coats and blank faces were danger and had no care for fingers and feet as long as the catch came in. Her sister had lost two toes in the shellfish tide pools, cut to the bone on the sharp shells and unable to heal when soaked for hours daily in salt water. No infection though.

She was in the city square, Annie at her side. Finnick, good boy, was across an aisle made of rope. She wrinkled her nose at the lady on the stage, stark and obnoxious in fake wave-patterned blue dress. The sea had many hues and Mags knew them all and that blue did not belong at all. The fake lady was speaking and Mags was ignoring her. Then suddenly Annie was screaming and crying and Finnick was calling from across the aisle and Mags knew what to do. She pushed Annie behind her and shouted "Take me!" though that was not what came out of her mouth, she recognized from a long distance away. Two blank faces escorted her to the stage where Finnick soon joined her. Mags knew what she must do. Her father's words echoed again through her mind. You protect your family.


End file.
